


The Freeform Of Gwenellette

by Inky_Mermaid



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Fun Skyrim Times, Let's see where it leads us, Writing and seeing where it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:52:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Mermaid/pseuds/Inky_Mermaid
Summary: A Bosmer girl finds herself in Skyrim, homeless, cold and depressed. When some travelling Khajiit feel the need to adopt her, will her life start to look up, or will she get into more trouble than she started?Where will her journey into adulthood take her, and who will she meet?Not even I know! And I'm the writer!





	The Freeform Of Gwenellette

A damp, musty odour swam through the air, leaving a burning residue at the back of a cold nose. A hefty sneeze preceded bleary eyes opening stickily, and a nasty wheeze followed. Gwenellette had been out in the open for far too long, and it was well into autumn. She had hoped to get settled sooner, but circumstances as they were had not been kind or forgiving.  
It took her a moment to catch up with the noises that had awoken her, and when she finished spluttering, she squawked at the whiskery face that was nearing her own.  
“Is not dead yet Na’arjo! What ‘ees this girl doing whee’st no tent?” A khajiit gingerly wiggled his finger against the top of her pointed ear.  
Gwenellette scrambled about and sat up hastily, earning startled groans from the intruders.  
“Aah, eet es alive Rajaf!”  
“I told you!”  
Her gaze focussed on a bright blue-eyed feline with many gold earrings adorning his flufftastic, up-pointed ears. The three of them blinked at each other lazily and with little concern of her moving much, judging from her withered state, until the cat-man at the back offered, “You want the sweet med’cine, sicky Bosmer?”  
Gwenellette wasn’t stupid, but her mind was a little confused with her hypothermic suffering so she found herself nodding for medicine before she realised they must mean skooma, and the nod turned slowly into a disapproving shake and frown.  
They all laughed loudly and the one with the earrings let out a sullen growl of annoyed empathy.  
“By Alkosh, we cannot leave her here!”  
“...But Rajaf!...”  
“Ach! Silence. We make camp. We warm ourselves, we see if she will follow, no?”  
“I can hear you!” Gwenellette croaked, regretting the sandpapery feeling instantly.  
The one that seemed to go by the name Rajaf just eyed her wearily out of the corner of his eye and took a few steps to the south, before settling onto his pack that he plonked down beneath him. He started digging some kindling out of his bag and Gwenellette tiredly watched the other khajiit jump into action and start looking for logs that might be dry enough to make a fire. She didn’t know if they would manage that really, as it had been so damp and foggy for the past few nights, she could almost feel the pneumonia threat in the air.  
Not much talking ensued after that, and it took a good hour and three quarters for the cats to make any of the smoking, damp logs set into some semblance of a fire, they kept digging around near the base of trees and under bushes for something that might not have been touched by the chilly autumn air.  
By the time they succeeded, Gwenellette’s eyes were drooping again, and Rajaf decided to unpack their tarpaulin to erect for more shelter from the elements, and maybe a bit of a safe haven for the poor girl. He felt sorry for her, reminding him of his own past circumstances, yet he was still wary, as if khajiit themselves could be sneaky, then certainly other races of creatures might be as well.  
Na’arrjo was trying to slow-roast some fish over the tiny fire they had made, and Rajaf hoped that Dar’vi, their sister, would find them along the road soon, having been trading in some of the northern villages. Dar’vi could fix up almost any fire, and she would certainly be better at bedside manner to the sickly looking elf creature they had found. Although said elf had moved a little closer to the fire since he’d started pinning up the tarpaulin for more cover, so perhaps she was not waiting for death quite yet.  
Once he was done with two large coverings and a tent, much like half a gazebo with some sleeping spaces underneath, he approached the girl again, offering some of the braised fish on a stick.  
She looked like she might refuse but then stared into his face, and through the blank expression, he could see the intelligence and desperation underneath. Her elf-eyes were emerald and bloodshot, and a thought ran through his mind that she might have been too exhausted to even weep over any adverse situations she had been through. He sat directly in front of her and held the fish out again.  
This time she took it shakily and nibbled it with caution. After the first bite she started ripping into it so fast that when she coughed on some of the fish bones, regardless if they tore her throat, she just carried on swallowing whole mouthfuls.  
“B… be careful small thing, you will do yourself damage, no?” Rajaf raised his eyebrows in amusement when she flushed in embarrassment and looked up at him shyly.  
“I… I’m so sorry,” she started hoarsely, “I never wanted to be a burden to anyone. Thank you for being so kind… but I worry you might want something from me?”  
He reckoned if her voice wasn’t so like sandpaper it might have cracked a few octaves at the question she asked, but it only came out as bland. He snorted and shook his head.  
“We see many strays along ze road, and of them all, you have been closest to death these past weeks,” he explained, “we khajiit do not want ze roads we travel to be scattered with dead ones we did not help… you understand? Skyrim is harsh place for newcomers. We understand zis. We know what eet is like. We try to make friends where we can. Eef you want to join, offer ees limited and not often extended to strangers. I feel kinship connection weeth you, strange elf lady.”  
She smiled a little at that and bowed her head, shifting her stiff posture into a slightly more relaxed one and putting the now-devoid-of-fish stick onto the ground.  
“My name is Gwen,” she tried to smile up at him again but he found himself strangely and involuntarily leaning forward to shield her and pat her back when her cold hands raised up to cover her face as she started to sob dry and empty tears.  
He cast a look over his shoulder at Na’arrjo, who was tapping a little green vial of skooma impatiently, with a less than subtle gesture at the weeping girl.  
It might help her.  
And if it didn’t… well… at least they might be able to.


End file.
